


Double Bind

by samariumwriting



Series: Trans Claude AU [9]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Trans Claude von Riegan, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 06:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: When Claude takes a seemingly unnecessary risk during a fight, it backfires a little (a lot). When Claude wakes up in the infirmary, Flayn is there to greet him with the question of why.





	Double Bind

**Author's Note:**

> No particular spoilers in this fic, and it stands alone from the rest of the series, but takes place during Ch8 of FE3H and is therefore during the first fic in this series. However, if you happen to like trans Claude, please do check the others out :)
> 
> Content warning for unsafe binding and gender dysphoria in this fic. As always, if this is something that you find difficult, please look after yourself <3

Claude knew he’d made a mistake the moment he got hit in the chest with a fireball. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. That was a bad move he’d made, dashing ahead. Stumbling backwards, he was just about able to get another shot off, leaving the mage unable to retaliate as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the robed figure fall to the ground.

He fell on one knee himself, attempting to suck a breath in through his teeth, clenched in pain. He...couldn’t breathe properly. Was that the smoke and fire? The injury? Or just his own stupidity? Dimly, beyond the roar of battle that filled his mind, he felt his body move - Flayn must have rescued him, pulling him out of harm’s way.

“Claude,” she said, her voice firm, louder than usual to fight the sound of the battle raging ahead. He turned to look at her, and realised with a twinge of alarm that his vision was decidedly fuzzy around the edges. “Claude, you need to keep breathing right now. In and out. Okay?” He nodded, but even as he did what she asked, he could see black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He really had fucked up.

The next time he woke up, he was in the infirmary. He knew, because he was becoming maybe slightly too familiar with the way the light came in through the curtains in the early afternoon and the way the place smelled. This was, however, the first time he’d ended up here while unconscious. His chest still hurt a little.

Groaning slightly, he turned onto his side and then thought better of it. Ouch. Ribs. He must have cracked one. He did, however, catch sight of the Professor, who was sat next to Flayn at the edge of the room. Claude met their eyes, and they nodded and stood up, gently shaking Flayn’s shoulder before disappearing into Manuela’s room.

Flayn mumbled slightly and then yawned, her eyes fluttering open. “Oh!” she said, standing up the moment she saw Claude. “Oh, did I fall asleep? I’m sorry, Claude. I was meant to be watching to make sure you were okay…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said firmly, ignoring the way his chest hurt when he took a deeper breath in. “Teach was watching. They just left to let Manuela know I’m awake, I guess.”

“Well, you’re lucky you’re awake at all,” Flayn said, and the small, cross frown on her face told Claude he had monumentally messed up. Mostly because if Flayn was angry then he could barely even imagine how Seteth felt towards him right now. “I have never once before in my life had to cut someone out of their own clothing so they could breathe.”

Yep, he’d messed up. He’d been dimly aware that, under the sheets, he wasn’t wearing the same shirt he’d been wearing when they went into battle. Which was a shame, because he’d quite liked what he was wearing earlier. “You don’t seem too pleased about it, but thanks anyway,” he said.

“Too pleased?” Flayn asked, her voice rising a little in pitch. “Claude, you clearly do not understand. You passed out on the battlefield because you couldn’t breathe. In that condition you should not have been fighting at all. Do you even understand how worried I was when I went to heal you and could feel that your lungs couldn’t fill with air?”

“Everyone breaks ribs in battle sometimes, Flayn,” he said, waving a hand. He took her point that he’d been foolish and stupid but he didn’t need to have a conversation about it. He’d already figured out that he’d messed up royally. “Raphael broke three two weeks ago when he fought Dimitri in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

“You know that is not the same thing,” Flayn said. “I had spoken to the Professor about this but it seems you are in dire need of a proper talking to.”

“Oh, ouch,” he said, poking a rib. It actually did hurt, but this was more for the effect than anything. “You know what, Flayn? We can have this conversation, but right now I really need some more rest. Sorry.” He could work out how to deal with this in the break she gave him, hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Flayn said. “I was instructed that when you awoke, you should be kept awake so Manuela can check your breathing. She may be a little while longer, so I think it is perfectly reasonable for us to have this conversation now.”

Huh. Claude had known that Flayn was no pushover, and she was a whole lot stronger than she looked, but he was not expecting quite that level of determination. “Fine,” he said. “Lecture me with your sweet words, o Flayn, while I lament my fatigue.”

“I have no intention of lecturing you,” Flayn said. Claude looked up at her in surprise. “I am sure you already know exactly what you did wrong and why it was foolish, and I do hope you won’t do it again. For your class’ sake, if not your own. I merely...wanted to ask you why. And I hoped you might feel better if you could talk about it.”

This was not a conversation he wanted to have. It wasn’t a conversation he’d had with anyone, not even the Professor. He’d had half a conversation with Manuela, but she was a busy woman and it was easy to distract her with something else even when she was determined. “I’m not sure you’d like the answer,” he said. Maybe he could put her off asking. Hopefully.

“I already know that,” she replied. “But that is why I am asking. I understand if they are...feelings you are uncomfortable talking about. But I still think you should give it a try, if only for a while.”

The problem with Flayn was that she was too cute. Too innocent, too sweet. He felt like, if he said no to her, she might start crying. Or she’d frown and go and tell Seteth and then he’d be executed for upsetting her. “It makes me feel more comfortable,” he said, in an attempt to answer her question.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. He spent hours thinking of whether he should do this thing or that, if he could ignore his feelings, if he could do anything about it at all. He tried endlessly to justify the potential (now very real) danger. But he’d never really said it aloud. He’d never had to explain himself. “Does it need to be quite so tight?” Flayn asked, after a few moments of silence. Her voice had softened a little.

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “I was just feeling a bit off when I got up.” A bit off was a nice way to put the agonising process of passing the mirror on his way out to meet with the rest of the class and catching sight of something that was probably only visible to him and then doing everything he could to hide that.

“And that helped?” she asked.

“A lot,” he said. He’d been feeling pretty much fine, actually, until he’d passed out. He’d barely even realised that it was too tight.

“I think I understand,” she said. Claude didn’t have the heart to tell her she probably didn’t. “How old do you think I look, Claude?”

Claude knew that what she wanted to hear was ‘about the same age as the rest of us’, placing Flayn at perhaps seventeen or eighteen. If he were to be honest, he’d say more like twelve or thirteen. “Fifteen?”

Flayn laughed. “Thank you for the sentiment,” she said. “I am, of course, older than I look. But I wish I looked more like a young woman than a little girl. I, too, feel a sadness at my own appearance. So I do understand you, if in a different way.”

Claude nodded. “I suppose you do.” He actually was tired, now. He’d barely even tried this whole talking about it thing that Flayn thought would help, and he just felt sad and tired.

“I am sorry for getting angry at you,” she said. “I don’t know what I thought it would accomplish. Clearly it mattered enough to you that you would injure yourself for the sake of appearances, but…”

“No need to worry about apologies, Flayn,” he said. “I...appreciate your concern.” He didn’t, really. He didn’t want people to feel concerned about him. He didn’t want them to see him like this. Actually, he was not looking forward to the earful he was about to get from his classmates about fighting when ‘ill’. With half of them acting like he didn’t know that they knew exactly what had happened.

But he did sort of appreciate that she cared, and when she smiled, he knew she had understood what he meant. “Naturally I would worry,” she said. “I know it perhaps may be too much to ask, but could you try not to be so reckless again?”

“I’ll try,” he conceded. No more tightly constricting his lungs on the battlefield was probably a good thing anyway. He couldn’t promise to her that he’d never do anything like it again, because sometimes he felt like he didn’t have a choice (in a real battle, if he had to choose between lightheadedness or feeling unable to even move then he’d take that risk again). But he could afford to be a little less reckless.

“That is all I ask,” she said. “Though, may I...may I ask about something unrelated?”

“It depends what the unrelated thing is,” he said. He knew this trick, and Flayn was wiser than he’d thought if she was using it consciously. But he didn’t really care, because there were very few things she could ask that were worse than the conversation they’d just had.

“Do you know much of the stories about the original Riegan?” she asked. Okay, that was not a question he was expecting. Interesting, though. Flayn knew a lot more about the stories of the Church than he did.

“Not really,” he admitted. It was sort of hard to find stuff. “But I’d be interested to hear more.”

“He rode a horse,” Flayn said, “and wielded Failnaught from there. He shot arrows of pure light across the battlefield, and the thundering sound of his horse’s hooves struck fear into the hearts of all who encountered him. He was truly a sight to behold.”

“He sounds like quite the hero,” he said. He wondered where Flayn got all this information on the Church, because he’d never heard or read anything like that, but he wasn’t going to press her for that. Not yet, anyway.

“Quite,” she said. It was then, of course, that Manuela entered the room, immediately heading over to fuss over him, to chide him for being foolish, to warn him about being more careful next time. All the works. Exactly what he’d expected to get in length from Flayn but hadn’t.

Quietly, while Manuela was checking his breathing and doing more healing for his broken rib, Flayn left the room, a small smile on her face. If Claude was being honest, Flayn was one of the last people he would have expected to understand where he was coming from. He’d thought, foolishly, that she didn’t understand anything about the world. And he was right, she didn’t, he’d seen evidence of that himself, but what she did understand was people’s emotions.

She could understand his pain, somehow, with only a few words. And while he hadn’t really liked the whole ‘talking about it’ thing she’d suggested, he appreciated her efforts. She really was a sweet kid, and somehow...when she’d said she understood him, her words rang true.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the genderqueer Nabateans agenda (also please appreciate the word play in the fic title I have peaked I will never think of a good title ever again)
> 
> Thank you for reading! :) if you enjoyed, or if you have any other ideas for trans Claude fics (I have four more prompts waiting to be written) please let me know either here or on twitter @samariumwriting!


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